Goblin Debts
by errihu
Summary: A shapeshifted netherdrake with an insatiable curiosity about mortal ways learns more about mortals than she intended when she runs afoul of the goblin lending system. An undead priest might be her only chance for freedom.
1. Chapter 1

**This is another that I wrote originally for another venue. It is not safe for work or for those under the legal age of majority in their jurisdiction. Mature themes, some of them not very nice.**

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Chapter 1

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Kianraku had always been intrigued by mortals. One of the few of her kind born free, her elders had taught her to assume mortal form at a young age, all the better to remain hidden from the fel orcs that had enslaved so many of her kind. But for the most part, she had avoided mortals, preferring to stay in her native crystal fields in Netherstorm. It had always been safer that way.

All that had changed when the portal re-opened. Suddenly, there was a huge influx of mortals into the ravaged world of the Outlands. Every place she went was overrun by them! So Kian found herself taking mortal form more and more frequently. She spent greater and greater lengths of time around them, masquerading as a mage, taking many mortal forms, and learning their many languages. And she found herself becoming more and more intrigued by mortal ways. Mortals were interesting! She began to long to be among them, to wander their cities and eat their food, speak to them, learn from them, and see all of the wonders of the mortal world. She left her crystalline ledge behind completely, and spent months going from town to town in the Outlands.

Finally, she turned her gaze towards the Dark Portal, and the lands beyond. She'd never been to Azeroth, and it sounded far more exotic to her than the Outlands where she'd hatched and lived all her life. So she gathered up her meager possessions (being a young drake, she had accumulated little treasure – mostly some shiny rocks and pieces of metal), and made her way to the portal. She decided to take the form of a draenei female, reasoning that any cultural faux pas she made would be explained away as her being an alien, rather than her not being mortal. Besides, as a draenei she could at least keep her tail and horns. She'd long since learned that most mortals considered dragons to be either things to ride, or things to hit with sharp objects until treasure fell out. She wanted neither of those fates.

Life on the other side of the portal started out every bit as fascinating as she hoped. Azeroth was a maelstrom of peoples and places, and she played the part of the wide-eyed tourist eagerly and well. She went from city to city, town to town, and land to land, taking in as much of the world as she could. The members of this "Alliance" were usually kind and friendly, though the "Horde" was occasionally threatening, but for the most part, she was having a good time. Things were pretty good.

That was, until she ran out of money.

The concept of money was foreign enough to Kian, but she had learned to deal with it. She had been able to pawn some of the pieces of her treasure for gold. She would have no doubt had more than enough money for her travels if she hadn't discovered the auction house. There, she was able to exercise her new-found passion for clothing. Drakes don't normally wear clothing, but Kian had become enamoured of it. Amazing, how mortals could change their appearance so readily, without resorting to magic or shapeshifting! All with a little cloth! And sometimes that clothing had magical effects which enhanced her own natural abilities. Those pieces were not only the most comfortable and the best looking, but the most expensive to boot.

But used clothing never sold for what she paid for it, and by the time she reached Booty Bay, her supply of gold ran out. That's when she discovered that institution which would be her undoing – goblin moneylenders.

The green creatures had been all smiles when she'd first come for money. They'd happily lent her gold – small amounts at first, but then larger and larger. Soon she owed the lenders of Booty Bay thousands of gold. Until finally one day, her goblin lender was no longer smiling.

"It's time to pay up." Her lender Gruben had snarled at her.

"What?" She'd squeaked.

"I'm calling your debt. It's due. Now. All ten thousand. Hand over the gold, girl." The green humanoid's voice was flat, and the expression on his face was anything but amused.

"But I don't have ten thousand gold! I'll need some time to come up with that kind of cash…" Kian insisted. Her mind raced… she could do odd jobs for some of the denizens of Booty Bay – that always garnered some income. But not enough, not enough.

"It's all due now. If you can't pay it, then I'll have to get my gold out of you some other way." The goblin's smile was cruel. Kian glanced around nervously, and noticed for the first time that several Booty Bay bruisers had crept up while she was distracted. They brandished their weapons menacingly. She was surrounded, and it was clear that Gruben had the bruisers on his side.

Thinking quickly, she started to cast a spell, thinking to turn the lender into a sheep and dash past the crowd of thugs in the confusion. But Gruben was wise to her.

"Oh no you don't, missy. I've known you're a mage for a while now. Rickle, hit the device and collar my draenei, will you?" Gruben barked. Kian shrieked in pain as her magic was ripped from her. She fell to her knees, momentarily stunned. There was a click, and something cold and metallic fastened around her neck.

As she regained her senses, she realized she was cut off from her magic. She couldn't shift! She was _stuck_ like this. She clawed at the collar around her neck, to no avail. The hard, smooth metal defied her efforts to tear it off.

"We have ways of dealing with mages." Gruben said. "Good work boys. Confiscate the contents of her room at the inn. I'm going to try to liquidate as much as I can. However I suspect that our pretty little draenei will have to work off her debt another way."

The bruisers laughed at that. One spoke up, "Let us know when you're ready for customers, Gruben. I wouldn't mind some of that myself."

"Naturally, Conkle. I'll even give you a discount, as thanks for your help here." Gruben said.

Kian was still trying to figure out what was going on. What did Gruben mean, work off her debt? Was he going to let her do odd jobs? And what did this Conkle mean by customers? Some of what? She was still reeling from weakness caused by the sudden loss of her magic. She flinched slightly as her lender fastened something to the collar around her neck – a chain. He gave her little time to wonder what he was doing before he jerked the chain, causing her to fall forward.

"Get up, girl. You've got work to do." Gruben's voice was not kind.

"Gruben, what—?" she started.

"Get up, and shut up. You'll call me 'Master' from now on, not Gruben. Now follow me, before I have to teach you a lesson in obedience."

This did _not_ bode well.

Kian picked herself up, and stumbled as the goblin jerked the chain again. He led her through Booty Bay, making sure to force her to stumble every now and then. Just to make her absolutely aware of her change in status, apparently. The second time she spoke his name, he jerked the chain so hard she had fallen down, and her collar had buzzed with a painful electric jolt. After that, she called him Master – it was clear that if she did not, he would see that she suffered.

He wasn't making any attempts whatsoever to hide her either. She was being paraded through the port town like some kind of prize. As they passed, she heard the jeers and catcalls of the men (and even a few women) of Booty Bay.

"When can I come get some of that?" a burly orc shouted as they passed.

"You come by in three days and we'll talk. Bring your money." Gruben replied. The orc barked a laugh at that.

"Three days, Gruben?" a human dockworker called, joining the shouted conversation. "Gonna break her in for us first?"

"Naturally," the goblin shouted. "I want my money's worth!" The dockworkers laughed as the pair passed.

He dragged her down the wooden docks and up through the system of stairways and pathways, until they had ascended the cliff into the homes of the wealthy overlooking the bay. Gruben was not poor by goblin standards, and goblin standards were higher than most. He led her to a large, well appointed household, and shoved her through the door.

"This is my home. You'll do your best to keep it spotless. I want food on the table as I'm coming through the door. Those are the first of your duties, they start tomorrow. For today… strip!" Gruben barked.

Kian, the chain finally slackened, stared at him uncomprehending.

"You heard me, Fashion Plate, strip! I want you to take that thousand gold dress off right now!" Gruben's voice was shrill with anger.

"My name is Kian." said Kian. Gruben roared and swung the end of the chain at her. _OW!_ That hurt!

"You should have thought about that before you spent all my gold on clothes. Your name is Fashion Plate now! Strip or I'll give you another." he threatened. Not wishing to repeat the chain lash, she complied, hurriedly undoing the fastenings of the dress and letting it fall to the floor. Gruben was grinning at what he saw.

"All those threads, and not a stitch on underneath." he said. Well, of course! Why would she wear clothes under her clothes? No one had ever informed Kian about underwear.

The goblin's smile held an avaricious malice that was making her seriously nervous about what he had planned. She eyed him uncertainly.

"It's time you started earning your keep, Fashion Plate," Gruben said as he fiddled with the fastenings of his pants. After a few frantic motions, he managed to get his pants off one-handed. Kian saw the exposed green penis bobbing in the air, erect and proud, if small. She suddenly figured out what the goblin wanted.

He couldn't be _serious_. He wanted to _mate_ with her? A member of another _species_?! She knew what sex was, though she'd never tried it herself – she'd seen other beings going at it before, and fended off a few amorous advances while disguised as a mortal. But the idea of a goblin and a dragon (even if he did think she was a draenei)… an unintended giggle escaped her lips.

Gruben heard the laugh, saw her amusement, and misinterpreted it. His face curled into a snarl. "I may not be hung like a gronn, but believe me, draenei, I know how to use it!" he snapped, whipping her with the end of the chain. The pain of the metal chain against her exposed flesh wiped the smirk from her face. Then he jerked the chain viciously. The unexpected movement caused Kian to lose her balance and fall to her hands and knees.

The goblin walked around her, keeping the chain tight as he did so. Any time Kian moved more than an inch, her collar shocked her. She'd give anything to know how he did that.

Then Kian got an even bigger shock as the goblin grasped her tail and lifted. She felt the pressure of a foot on each of her hooves, and the weight of a small body standing on her legs. Something probed between the blue-black furred patch between her legs, then forced its way between. She gasped sharply as it encountered resistance, then there was a small ripping noise and a sudden searing pain as it thrust deeper inside her.

Gruben gave a pleased chuckle at this discovery, and slapped her ass. "Why Fashion Plate, I would have never taken you for a virgin, the way you dress to kill!" he laughed. "I'm glad I decided to break you in myself." He pulled out, and the pain subsided, then returned as he thrust back into her hard.

The next few minutes consisted of the goblin frantically pounding her while she yelped. When he dropped the chain to grip her buttocks, she was too disoriented and pained to take advantage of it. He pulled out of her, and she thought for a moment that it was over, only to be rudely disabused of that notion as he pushed his dick into her ass. That hurt too. Fortunately, that didn't last long, as her tight, virgin ass proved too much for Gruben. After a few frenzied thrusts, he made a strangled sound, and liquid warmth filled her poor abused rectum. The spent goblin pulled out of her with a small plop.

"Oh yeah, I can charge good money for this!" Gruben said, to himself. Kian said nothing. She'd been through enough, and didn't doubt that any wrong move on her part would only invite more humiliation and abuse.

Three days of goblin-rape later, Gruben opened his doors to the rest of Booty Bay, and Kian discovered that there were indeed _many_ men who would bed a member of another species.


	2. Chapter 2

**There's lemons all through this story. Not every chapter has lemons, but a number of them do.**

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Chapter 2

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Kian tugged at the hem of her poorly made dress, trying to straighten it out, as she sat on the small bed waiting for the next customer. Gruben had adamantly insisted the only clothing she could wear was that which she created herself. Her skill was slowly improving, but she was still a sloppy tailor. At least he let her wear clothing when she wasn't pleasing customers. Thank the Nether for _small mercies_, she thought acidly. She consoled herself with visions of the bloody and violent end she'd subject the goblin to if she ever managed to get the collar off.

Her door burst open suddenly and she jumped like a startled rabbit. Gruben smirked at her. "Get to the business room. Your next appointment is here. And take off those ridiculous rags!" her owner barked. Kian sighed and stripped silently, and followed the goblin, wondering who was going to use her body today.

Ironic, wasn't it? She'd taken the form of just about every humanoid species she'd encountered before going through the portal. Now in Azeroth, she'd taken the dicks of just about every humanoid species there was. From arakkoa to undead, she'd had the cocks of the known world in her mouth, hands, pussy and ass. The strangest had actually been the sole draenei, who had lectured her on the evils of her lifestyle before fucking her in the ass.

They arrived at the "business room", a gaudily decorated room stocked with just about every aid to every kink imaginable. Kian thought it was outré, but she knew better than to ever say that to Gruben. As her captor closed the door behind her, she settled on the large, heart-shaped bed, taking care to lounge seductively, and idly wondered what she'd be entertaining this evening. She hoped it wasn't another ogre. She still ached from the last one.

After a short wait, the door opened, and a finely dressed undead strode in. As he gracefully closed the door behind him, Kian suppressed a stab of worry. Her experiences with undead had revealed that most of them had some kind of hangup over sex. She still had nightmares over the rogue who, unable to get it up, had settled for wielding his dagger expertise on her body, leaving her bleeding and near death. He'd paid enough to Gruber for the healing, even enough to make sure there would be no scars, but she still never wanted to experience that again.

He'd kept himself well, at least. His blue-black hair (nearly the same shade as her own, actually) was stylishly cut and clean. His hands and talons were manicured, and his pale grey skin was obviously well cared for. He was immaculate. As he neared, Kian caught a whiff of cologne, with no trace of putrefaction. She resisted the urge to arch her eyebrows in surprise.

The undead gave her an elaborate bow. "Good evening, madame. My name is Duchene. Who do I have the honor of addressing tonight?" he asked in a beautiful baritone. She lost control of her eyebrows.

"I'm Kian." she managed. Duchene took her hand and kissed it. She wondered what he'd been smoking. Her eyebrows achieved lift-off.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Kian." The undead smiled, glowing yellow eyes meeting hers. He did not yet release her hand. Instead he pulled her gently to her feet (well, hooves), and swung her into his arms in a close embrace. She had six inches of height on him, but this apparently did not factor into the equation as he tilted her backwards and kissed her full on the lips, one hand supporting her, while the other caressed her body. Her eyebrows left the atmosphere and entered orbit.

She might be no expert, but she'd been around mortals long enough to know that this wasn't something one normally did with a whore. Mind you, he wasn't a bad kisser at all. Kian suppressed her incredulity and went with it – Gruben had made it clear from the start that she was to do whatever the customer desired, no matter how painful, distasteful… or ridiculous. It was better than being cut up by a psychotic rogue who could only get his jollies from bringing others pain, or being bent over and violated roughly by taurens with anal fetishes.

Nevertheless she was somewhat surprised when, still in the process of tangling her tongue with his own, he reached his free hand between her legs and carefully, gently, rubbed something that felt _good_.

Now, Kian had known on an intellectual level that it was possible for women to experience pleasure from sex. She'd felt glimmers of it from time to time with some clients, but on the whole, they weren't there for _her_ pleasure. This was a totally new experience for her. And she reacted.

"mmmph!" she said into Duchene's mouth. "mmmMMMMMmm!"

Seriously, why did this guy have to pay for sex? Well kept, obviously moneyed (or Gruben wouldn't have let him past the door), urbane and, well, handsome-for-an-undead, _and_ a considerate bed mate? Something was not right here.

But those thoughts were lost as she started to respond to his delightful kisses and seductive strokes. Pretty soon she was breathing hard, and they were both leaning against the bed for support. She'd started to return caresses of her own, which seemed to please him immensely. Her heart pounded and a sense of urgency she'd never felt before came over her. Pressing her body against him (and there was a telling hardness in the right spot that informed her that the reason he was seeing whores was _not_ because he was missing parts, or poorly endowed), she fumbled with his clothes while smothering his neck and face with kisses.

His strong hands closed over hers, and, ever mindful of his talons (didn't she just wish all undead were that considerate), he helped her remove his clothing. His skin under her touch was cool and silky smooth. His hands returned to her body, and she began her in-depth exploration of his flesh. He had most of it still.

She was learning more about her body with every passing second, or rather, Duchene was teaching her. His every touch found some previously-unknown spot, which ignited beneath his fingers. Under his clearly expert ministrations, she felt as though her whole body had been turned to some delicious, erotic flame.

Kian couldn't stand it anymore. Her fingers curled around his rock hard member, the heel of her thumb massaging the dripping tip, smearing the telltale slickness of his own excitement all over its length. She felt his breath on her neck as he paused his delightful ear nibble to gasp with pleasure at her touch. "Please," she whispered.

The undead pulled away from her then, and she whimpered a bit at the loss of his touch. He gently pushed her legs apart, and leaned down towards her. But he didn't take her then, instead he did something completely unprecedented.

Duchene bent down and slipped his tongue in the moist, hot, delicately furred slit between her legs. Her surprised and ecstatic gasp nearly drowned out his low and appreciative groan of pleasure as he sampled the juices of her sopping, ready pussy. The astonished netherdrake-_cum_-draenei gazed down the valley of her breasts in surprise, her wide glowing eyes meeting his half-lidded golden orbs. There was an intensity in his eyes that she'd never experienced, a desire almost white-hot. His burning eyes never left her face as his tongue explored her inner depth, then caressed the sensitive flesh of her clit.

Moaning loudly, Kian surrendered to the intense pleasure as the undead's gentle tongue brought her to her first orgasm. As she came, Duchene lapped greedily at the fluids that poured forth. The waves of her orgasm subsided, but darts of tingling pleasure continued to fire through her with each stroke of his tongue. Then he gave her clit one final circle, and raised his head from her womanhood.

Dazed but still feeling as though she was on fire, her body moved seemingly of its own volition as he slid on top of her. Her legs and knees shifted to allow him greater access, her arms were snaked around his back even as his slid under her, her mouth was on his (was that musky sweetness her?), and her hips lifted to meet his first thrust. She cried out in ecstasy as she took his entire length in, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her hooves together as she bucked under him.

"Ohhhh so sweet," Duchene's voice was a rough growl as he slid his clawed hands under her hips and pushed himself into her hard and fast. He felt cool and hard inside her, not unpleasant, but that coolness vanished as he rapidly heated from the contact with her smouldering flesh. He drove into her with wild abandon. Reckless instinct took over her and she growled a little in his ear as she gripped him tight and bucked, attempting to pull him in ever deeper, ever harder.

Their hot, frenzied passion pushed Kian into yet another explosive, shrieking release. The tightening of her passage around him made Duchene shout his own pleasure. At the height of it, he gestured briefly, and she was encased in a golden light. Her eyes flew open in confusion. _A priest shield?_

And with the first spasming of his member inside her, the shadows came flooding in to envelope them both. The golden shield pulsed, flickered, and vanished under the assault. The shadows wrapped around Duchene and Kian, and Kian started to scream. But not in pain or fear, oh no. The line between shadow and nether is a thin one indeed. Kian was screaming in ecstasy unlike any she had ever known or thought she could know. Duchene was helpless in her arms, filling her up with his shadow and his seed. She was helpless in his arms, her whole body convulsing with the intense pleasure of it all.

Finally, they both lay still, she gasping and panting for breath, he desperately attempting to get his shadows under control. By the time he succeeded, she had almost caught her breath. The shadows flickered out. Duchene pushed his upper body off of her, golden eyes flickering worriedly as he looked her over. Unwilling to let go of him just yet, she adjusted the lock of her heels behind his hips.

"Are you… ok? Do you need healing? I'm a priest—," Duchene began. Kian put a hand to his lips to still him.

"I'm ok, I'm not hurt. That was…" her eyes became unfocused in remembrance, "wonderful…" she trailed off.

The undead's face split into a grin of incredulous joy. "You are unharmed? You… enjoyed that?" he asked excitedly.

"I've never felt that incredible in my life." Kian replied honestly.

Duchene allowed himself to relax, laying atop her, pressing his chest against her own. He kissed her for a long moment, then spoke. "I don't know what gods created you, Kian, but it can only have been in answer to my prayers."

"Why is that?" she asked, snuggling against him. She'd never snuggled before, and was quickly discovering she liked it.

"You are the first woman who has not run screaming when I… when I lose control of the shadows. You are not hurt by them. It can only be some kind of miracle." he spoke in her ear. His voice carried more than a hint of past trauma, of terrible experiences, and of wonder.

Kian debated telling him the truth; that she was really a dragon. She'd attempted it before, a few times, only to be laughed at or accused of being delusional. One of the men she told had informed Gruben, and he had beaten her unmercifully for 'telling stories', and 'attempting to trick someone into freeing her'. She'd never spoken about it again after that.

Instead, she settled for "Will you come here again?"

"Yessss…" Duchene hissed.

She thought he might be about to say something more, but the harsh banging on the door interrupted them both.

"Open up in there!" Gruben's voice called through the sturdy wooden door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Comment to reviewer Carrac - there's nothing in the lore suggesting _anything_ about undead sexual performance. Undead romances are certainly hinted at. Looking outside at other works involving undead, we see that whether undead can have orgasms or not is largely up to the author. For this work, Duchene is willing and able. Can he have children? No. But he can have fun.**

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Chapter 3

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There was another pound on the door as Duchene hurriedly rose from the bed. Kian gestured quickly to a stand near the bed where an assortment of dressing gowns hung. Duchene grabbed one and slid it on, and tossed her another. Kian nodded and donned it as her client moved to open the door. Gruben stood at the entrance, brandishing a club and looking angry.

"I heard screaming," the goblin snapped, "I didn't authorize any damage. You'll pay extra if I have to get her healed."

"That won't be necessary. I am a priest." Duchene said. "As you see, she is unharmed. She was merely… enjoying herself."

The goblin put his hands on his hips. "She's not here to enjoy herself!" Gruben snarled.

Duchene raised a hand in a placating motion. "She was merely doing as I requested. I am well pleased with her performance. I shall be returning to rent her services again, Mister Gruben."

The undead had not in actuality made any requests that Kian knew of, but she was hardly going to reveal the lie. She had no complaints of his treatment of her!

Gruben dropped his aggressive stance. Kian allowed herself to relax.

"Alright, but your time's up. You have five minutes to get your stuff and leave before I start charging you for another half hour." Gruben grumbled, and shut the door.

Kian sat on the bed with her hands in her lap and watched as Duchene gathered his wayward clothes and dressed himself. She was feeling a variety of emotions. Amazement, confusion, and desire warred with each other inside of her. No one had ever made her feel the way Duchene had just made her feel. She didn't want to see him leave, and hoped he would indeed return. This was a very new sentiment for her; most of the time she couldn't wait to see her clients leave.

The undead man finished adjusting his clothes, and approached her. Hurriedly, he embraced her and planted a kiss on her lips. Kian returned both the embrace and the kiss, melting into his arms.

"Expect me in a week," Duchene said, as Gruben started to pound on the door.

"You have thirty seconds!" came the goblin's muffled voice through the wood. Duchene opened the door and exited with grace, as though he'd never been hurried. Kian felt a pang of sadness as her client vanished into the corridor.

"Alright Fashion Plate, get cleaned up. You got another appointment in twenty minutes. Oh, and Fashion Plate? In addition to scrubbing the floors, you're going to re-clean my bathroom tomorrow. You didn't do a good enough job on it today. I don't want to see any more streaks on the mirror this time."

Kian clenched her jaw. There were no streaks on the mirror. She knew Gruben was just doing this to further humiliate her. But there was no use protesting. In the few months she'd been in Gruben's clutches she'd learned that the easiest way to avoid punishment and the agony of the collar was to shut up and do what she was told. The electrification was the least of the collar's punishments. Sometimes she fantasized about what she would do to the goblin if she ever managed to get it off.

She used the small bathroom attached to the business room to clean up, and then got ready to receive her next client. When he arrived, Kian steeled herself for a long night. It was a troll dock worker who occasionally came for her services and invariably spent several hours pounding her. Trollish regeneration and stamina was something that had to be experienced to be believed.

Duchene and his wonderful shadows must have affected her more than she had realized. While the troll had her bent over the bed, one hand gripping her horns to keep her steady as he fucked her hard from behind, she actually experienced pleasure, and even came, moaning. The troll had slapped her ass and called her a good girl, unloading himself inside her. Thirty seconds later it was back to business as the troll switched to her ass. It didn't happen again. Long night indeed.

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Kian waited the seven promised days eagerly. Just thinking that he might come to see her had her all worked up. So much so that she had slipped into fantasies of him while fucking a gnome and came. The surprised gnome was so gratified by this that he slipped her a few gold on the way out. She didn't let him on to the true reason for her excitement. She'd accepted the money and added it to the secret stash she had started out of similar gifts.

Around the time Duchene had arrived last time, Kian was in the business room. She was sitting on the bed, staring at the door avidly. When the door finally opened, she was almost trembling. Sure enough, there was the undead priest, just as he had promised. Before she knew what she was doing, she had stood up and gone to him, and thrown herself into his arms. Her mouth locked with his. With a jolt she realized what she had just done – Gruben would have a fit if he found out. But no, Duchene was returning her affection every bit as passionately as she was giving it to him.

When she finally had to stop for air, Duchene smiled at her. "Miss me?" he asked, amused. Kian felt her face heat up. "I'm glad to see you too." he continued. She smiled back at him, feeling somewhat shy. _Shy_ of all things. She was a whore, now! Seven days had done nothing to dampen the maelstrom of emotions Duchene evoked in her.

She kneeled before him, grasping through the rich silks of his clothing and finding his hardening member. She squeezed it gently. He inhaled sharply at her touch. "You _really did_ miss me, didn't you," he teased, running his fingers through her hair.

"Yes," she replied, using her other hand to fiddle with the clasp of his robe. She got it open, and hissed in annoyance with the discovery of his trousers. He chuckled and helped her push them down. His penis, grey and erect, sprung forth from its prison. With a ragged breath of desire, she stroked it gently then leaned forward and took it in her mouth as though it were a rare and precious fruit.

"Ohhhh," Duchene moaned as her lips fastened on his sensitive flesh. She began to suck and lick, and slipped her long-fingered hands further into his trousers to draw forth his hairless, sensitive balls. At the delicious sensation, the undead tightened his fingers on her head and thrust, groaning.

She ran her lips and tongue down his length, savouringly, exploring his length. She didn't normally enjoy this act, but tonight she wanted it. She wanted to feel his seed running down her throat, and to feel herself enveloped in his shadows as he came. The thought aroused her, she could already feel her nipples tightening as they stood proudly on her breasts, and her sex was already hot and moist. With glee, she closed her eyes and sucked him deep and hard in her mouth.

Kian relaxed her mouth and allowed him deeper in. Undeath hadn't done any damage to his member, and it was still a decent seven inches, and fairly thick. The draconic instincts which allowed her to swallow things whole permitted her to let him deep in her throat without discomfort. Her tongue moved, massaging the veiny underside of his cock. He was dripping pre-cum quite copiously into the back of her throat. The taste wasn't unpleasant, more bitter than that of non-undead men, but otherwise inoffensive. She hummed her approval. That brought a gasp from him and a few fast, hard thrusts in her mouth.

His breathing picked up and he gripped her horns, holding her steady as his thrusting picked up pace. (She'd noticed that undead only seemed to breathe when they were having sex… she'd have to ask him about that if she got the opportunity.) She could tell by the throbbing of his dick in her mouth and the steady leak of fluid in her throat that he was very close. She kept one hand caressing his sac and slipped the other between her own legs, finding her already soaked folds and rubbing the spot that he himself had taught her brought intense pleasure. She closed her eyes and moaned.

"Oh Light!" Duchene gasped, and though Kian's eyes were closed, she still knew when the shadows came. Under her fingers, his sac tightened. Her skin felt electrified as the first hot gush flowed down her throat. She opened her eyes slightly, seeing the swirling purple-green-black envelope them both. The shadows flowed all around her, setting every nerve buzzing, filling her with their sweet power, so different yet so similar to her own lost magic. She moaned around his member, loud and long, as the ecstasy washed through her. Duchene stiffened and thrust hard one more time in her mouth. Thick ropes of his seed rolled down, and she swallowed reflexively. This brought a strangled grunt of pleasure from her undead lover.

Finally, she milked the last bitter drops from him. She gently released his member and pulled away from his crotch. The hands on her horns stroked her short hair, then he reached down and helped her to her feet. He grasped the hand that had been in her pussy, and pulled it to his lips. She shivered as he sucked her juices off of her fingers. His other hand idly caressed her breasts, his talon tips running gently over her nipples. The feeling was exquisite.

Gently but insistently, he guided her towards the bed. When she gave him a curious look, he smiled at her and said, "We're not done yet, darling. I have you for the rest of the night if we want." She almost purred; the thought of an entire night with him was very attractive. And his use of the word 'we' did not escape her notice – most of her clients didn't give a damn about her one way or another. She was just another receptacle for their loads, more tempting and exotic than the other whores in Booty Bay because draenei were still rare, and draenei whores even more so. (If only they knew the truth, she would love to see the faces of some of the crueler ones if she ever regained her true form again.) Duchene was different, and she could adore him for that alone.

For whatever reason, Duchene cared about her pleasure. He wasn't just here to get himself off; he seemed to want to make her come as much as he could. He was respectful and considerate, and obviously pleased by her own ardent response to him. And she had never in her life felt pleasure such as that which he could invoke with his shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

Duchene was glad that he'd taken the time to cast that fortification spell on himself before coming tonight. It was refreshing to be desired, to have a woman gaze at him with wanton lust. It sure beat the alternative, which had mostly consisted of running and screaming after he came. That did poor things to a man's ego, especially when he considered himself to be a generally nice guy.

Despite his recent orgasm, he was by no means finished. He discarded his clothes as he guided Kian to the bed, and as she sat, he knelt, naked, before her. Immediately, he caught the musky, delicious scent of her arousal. His clawed hands curled gently around her thighs as he leaned in and kissed her gently on her nether lips. "Hnnnhh—!" she moaned at his touch, then gasped as he thrust his tongue inside her slick wet folds. Wow, was she ever wet. She really _had_ come from just his shadows.

She was every bit as delicious as she smelled. He'd grown quite fond of pleasuring a woman this way, his way of making sure his partner at least got something out of this before he scared her away. An apology in advance, so to speak. He was so embarrassed about his little problem that he had such a hard time talking about it. The few times he'd tried, he'd been told it wasn't a problem, but the result had been the same in the end.

As he drove his tongue deeper inside her, he started to rub her well-lubricated clit with his thumb. He was oh-so-careful, ever mindful of the inch long, lethal talons tipping his fingers. She rewarded his efforts with the arching of her back and the intensifying of her cries. It was very refreshing to have such a responsive partner!

Duchene skillfully brought her to the edge of orgasm, then held her there. He withdrew his tongue from her depths and skirted her heated entrance, slowly and sensuously. Kian's tail was twitching like an excited cat's, and she her breaths were coming in short, high pitched gasps. "Oh please, please…" she gasped. Smiling inwardly, he plunged his tongue inside her aggressively while rubbing her clit with just a _little_ bit more pressure. Her gasps turned to shrieks and she bucked against his face. He felt the hot, slick flow of her juices on his tongue, running into his mouth. Her insides gripped his tongue rhythmically. Oh, this was heavenly. And he was definitely ready for another go-round with this sweet, sweet draenei woman.

As she recovered from the powerful orgasm, he slid next to her on the bed and took her in his arms. She was so warm and soft. He could feel her body heat warming his own skin. He reveled in the feeling of skin against skin, closing his eyes in pleasure. His member, already hard again, was pressed against her hot thigh. He ran his fingers over her breasts, enjoying the sensual feeling of her nipples contracting under his touch.

"I hope you're not too tired to continue," he purred in her ear. The draenei shook her head no, her pale blue skin darkening in a blush, her beautiful blue-silver eyes meeting his. It was strange, he mused, she seemed almost innocent for a whore. Certainly, she seemed unused to pleasure. He intended to change that.

They made their way further up the bed, and he curled around Kian, who lay on her side. He slid one arm underneath her, reaching around to caress the generous handful of her breast. The other hand he slid down her front, slipping between her legs. At this, she pressed her rear against his crotch, rubbing against his throbbing penis. Light, that felt _soooo_ good. He adjusted his position and coaxed her leg up and over his hips as he slid into her hot pussy from behind. "Ohhmmmm" she moaned, spreading her leg to allow him greater access.

Duchene could feel her beating heart under his hands, and around his cock. He couldn't help but gasp with pleasure as he pumped her slowly from behind. She squished around him in such a delightful way. It had been a long time since he'd had a night like this. So long, he couldn't remember when. He kissed her neck and caressed her plump breasts, and he could have sworn he heard her purr. She clenched around him and he felt like purring himself. Instead he thrust himself into her a little harder and deeper. Kian made a sound that was surprisingly like a growl.

"Fuck me, hard, please?" she hissed. Well how could he refuse a request like that? He grasped her hips to hold her steady and rammed into her hard and fast. She groaned and arched her back, her tail curling against his stomach. Gasping, he felt that peculiar floating sensation overcome him as he started to come. Instead of fighting it as he always had before, he let it flow into him. The soft light in the room was shut out suddenly by the flooding shadows, and the draenei in his arms was quaking as she came all over him at the slightest touch of shadow. Her spasming womanhood coaxed more and more cum out of him in an orgasm that seemed to involve far more than merely their bodies. His mind felt blown by the power flowing through them.

The shadows lingered for a short while longer, and it was almost more than he could bear, with Kian's tight sex gripping him so hard as she just kept on going. Then they dissipated, and they were both panting, trying to catch their breath. He felt oddly refreshed, if exhausted. Unwilling to move, he wrapped his arms around her and just relaxed, still inside her.

"I have to ask you a question," Kian said when she'd caught her breath again, "why do you only breathe when we fuck?"

Duchene could not hold back his chuckle at that. "I breathe. I just do it far slower than you do, so you don't notice it. My heart also beats, it's the same thing. When I get excited, I breathe faster and you notice it. Undead aren't really dead, but we're not fully living either. In a lot of ways I'm still like most other living things, but there's a few differences. I can never father children, for one. That part of all undead is gone forever." he said, and fell silent. Thoughts of family brought back incomprehensible flashbacks of the time before the plague, and he had no desire to spend the rest of his night sobbing at a tragedy he couldn't fully remember.

"I don't know much about other species. It's part of why I came here, to Azeroth." she said.

Well, Booty Bay was definitely the place to see many races, he thought. Though he thought she was probably not seeing Azeroth at its best when she was only seeing its cocks. He wondered if she'd considered going into business on her own. Goblins invariably charged a hefty cut for the privilege of doing business with them – she could certainly make more without Gruben.

"Have you considered striking out on your own? You could probably make more money that way." he said. He felt her freeze, and he wondered if he'd presumed too much and offended her.

"M-Muh-Gruben would be very upset if I did that. Very upset." She fingered the shining choker around her throat—it was the same one she'd worn last week, he realized. To Duchene's ears, she sounded almost afraid. He'd thought she was here by choice. Suddenly, he wondered if he was wrong. What if Gruben wasn't just taking a cut, but taking it _all_?

"Are you indentured?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes." Her voice was tiny, ashamed. He felt like a piece of shit.

"I'm sorry." was all he could say.

"Don't be," she said, "you've been nicer to me than anyone else. I like you, Duchene. Don't… don't stop coming here…?" He heard a sniffle. Oh dear.

"Kian…" he said, and tightened his arms around her. He didn't know what else to say, or what to do. The fact that she was indentured and forced into prostitution and not a whore by choice compounded matters. He felt guilty – in a way he was aiding and abetting her abuse by being her patron. But she enjoyed and desired him; she'd made that abundantly clear. He couldn't remember a time in his long and lonely unlife where that had been the case. "Don't worry Kian. I'll be back again." he said, finally, and felt her relax at his words.

He spent the night there. He was pretty sure if he didn't, Gruben would have another client in here to fuck her, one who cared nothing for her, and that thought felt just awful. He'd deal with this moral quandary another day. For now, she was soft and warm in his arms and he hadn't spent an entire night in bed with a woman since before the plague took him.

* * *

Duchene nursed his ale pensively, watching the bubbles rise. Never very appetizing to begin with, it was starting to go flat. He didn't particularly care, he had too much to think about as it is.

He was a fallen priest by most standards, but that hadn't bothered him much. He'd no congregation to set an example for, no order to remain devout to. He might have before the plague, but since becoming Forsaken, he had been on his own spiritually. Devout priests, after all, didn't visit whores, and didn't make fortunes exploiting other people's foolishness at the auction house. They didn't provide their priestly services to the seedy underworld that existed in all societies. Duchene did all those things. Yet he'd tried to be moral in other ways. He had his standards. He tried to never judge the lifestyle of others, but he still found some things distasteful.

Like the systems of indenture and even slavery that were commonly practiced by several of the 'neutral' races. Ownership of other humanoids bothered him. It didn't matter their supposed faction – Duchene had long ago decided factionism was ridiculous – he still didn't like seeing other beings enslaved. The fact that, as Gruben's client, he was complicit in Kian's indenture was uncomfortable.

It was just his luck that when he finally found something to be with who didn't fear him, she would be indentured to the richest goblin in town. It was one more disappointment on the endless list that made up his life.

He took a sip of the flat ale, then tried not to react as he caught Gruben's name in another conversation across the tavern. Quietly, unobtrusively as possible, he cast the mind-vision spell on the speaker.

"…been to see that pretty draenei of his, that one he calls Fashion Plate. He charged a pretty penny too, I'll tell you, but she was worth it." His host said. Duchene thought it might be a human. The man was sitting across from a dwarf, who nodded.

"Aye, I thought of it meself a time or two, but ne'er could decide if the lass were worth the gold. That goblin must ha' made a fortune on 'er by now," the dwarf rumbled.

"Fortune indeed. Don't say nothing, but," the man leaned across the table and spoke to his companion in a low voice, "there's more to the story. A lot of people know she's indebted, but I heard a rumor that Gruben had that planned from the start. Good of him to think of the rest of us. You don't see too many of them draenei women willing to give you the time of day, much less spread their legs for you."

"Ain't that the truth," the dwarf declared. "Why just the other day, I asked one…" Duchene let the spell fade, and stared down at his drink, suppressing a growing anger. Something stank about the whole situation, and it wasn't him.

After a few minutes of cogitating, he came to a decision. He downed the last of his stale drink, slammed the mug on the table firmly and rose. It was time to visit Merridy.

* * *

An hour's time found him at the door of her dockside flat. He grasped the knocker and banged it against the door three times, and then a fourth. There was the sound of movement from within the small apartment, then a piece of wood slid aside and glowing silver eye peered at him from within a teal-tattooed, dusky purple-skinned face.

"Duchene. What is it?" a husky voice asked.

"I need to talk to you." The undead replied.

The piece of wood slid shut, and a moment or two passed. Duchene was wondering if she was going to turn him away. Then the door opened slightly, and a purple arm reached out and dragged him inside the darkened room. Merridy shut the door behind him.

"What do you need?" she asked. "You already know what I _won't_ do." The teal-haired night-elf smiled wryly.

"Nothing too onerous, I hope," he replied, "You know Gruben?"

"That shit? Mister I'm-the-richest-asshole-in-town? Who doesn't. He's grabbed my ass a few times, and probably would have tried more if I hadn't made it clear that I'm hardly defenseless. What about him?" Merridy took one of the two cleared armchairs amid the chaos of vials and dried herbs, weapons and mysterious implements. She gestured to the other clear chair, and Duchene sat.

"I want you to investigate him. Specifically, I want you to find out any information you can about how he acquired that draenei whore of his." he said.

She grinned at him. "Been to visit her have you? And she agreed to see you more than once?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Merridy knew about his problem – he'd found her battered and bleeding to death in an alley after her old "boyfriend" had decided he wanted someone new without any complications from her, and had taken her back to his apartment and healed her. In return, she'd gone down on him – he hadn't asked and he'd warned her what would happen, but she still did it. She'd never offered anything like that again. "Can you do it?"

"What's it worth?" the rogue cocked her head at him.

_Ever the mercenary_, he thought, but he'd come prepared. He pulled a small silk bag from his robes and handed it to her. She opened it carefully, sniffed its contents, and pulled out a sickly-looking twist of plant matter.

"Deadnettle. I thought this wasn't available here yet." She spoke. "I'd love to know your sources."

Duchene just smiled.

"Yeah, I'll do it. When should I go?" she said.

"Wait another night. If he realizes that someone's broken into his place, I don't want him associating it with my visit."

Merridy nodded. "Any suggestions?"

"I'm hardly the expert on B&E – that's your trade. I have no advice there. What I'm looking for is any information that might suggest that he's been less than legitimate in his dealings with the girl – even under goblin law. Blackmail material, in other words." He'd felt a moral pang at that when he thought of it, but decided that in the end, if the material existed, using it to free Kian would balance out the wrong.

"You think there's gonna be some?"

"I suspect that's the case, yeah."

"Yeah, I'll do it, Duchene. There's one condition." She said after a moment.

"What's that?"

"If you manage to get her out of there, I want to meet her, kay?" she winked. "She must be something special."

Duchene smirked. "That can be arranged, I think." He and the night-elf both rose. She spat in her palm and held it out to him. He grasped it firmly and shook. The deal was made.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

Merridy checked her kit one more time before adjusting the charcoal-coloured netherweave mask that covered her face. She slipped on the magical, darkened glasses that would hide the glow of her eyes while simultaneously brightening the way everything looked. It was time to leave.

The goblin had built his compound up the cliff and a slight ways away from the rest of Booty Bay. This hadn't hurt his business after he acquired the draenei – the pathway to his place was well worn and packed down firmly. Merridy had taken the jungle canopy instead, not wanting to encounter anyone leaving Gruben's compound.

Under normal circumstances it did not take long to get to Gruben's place. Trying to do so without being seen by anyone took somewhat longer. It was after midnight by the time she was in position. Fortunately in this case, that meant the compound was silent.

She balanced on the walls, gazing down into the compound. There was a dog – one of those two-headed wolf things that had recently started showing up as guard dogs and pets – mostly worthless but they were loud and looked impressive. She was glad that she'd taken the downwind approach. A few moments of rummaging in her kit produced a piece of dried meat which she laced with a potion and tossed into the compound.

It landed with a small thump in front of one of the dog's heads. Both heads turned in unison towards the piece of meat. One snapped at the other as it lunged for the treat. Thankfully, it didn't make too much noise as it gobbled down the treated jerky. Merridy waited. Within a few minutes one head yawned, and the other was nodding. The animal turned in a circle three times, curled up, and promptly fell asleep. The knockout potion would keep it sleeping through a hurricane and should last for at least six hours in an animal that size. Merridy hopped into the yard.

There was an obvious, easy looking entrance. She avoided that one, it didn't take a genius to figure out it was trapped – her magic glasses clearly showed at least three tripwires and there were no doubt more, less easy to detect measures. Instead, she circled the compound until she found what she was looking for: a third-floor window that didn't appear to open into a sleeping-room, with a red-tiled gable below it, overtop another window. The gable was sharply pitched as a measure to prevent hurricane damage, but that didn't bother her. She smirked. People always assumed if it was high up, it was secure.

She crouched for a moment and touched something on her boot, then leapt into the air. To an onlooker (had there been one), it would have appeared that she had just taken flight. Another quick swipe at her boot and she began descending, light and soft as a feather, onto the peak of the gable. Those magic boots had sure been a good purchase.

She picked her way to the window carefully and slowly, to prevent disturbing the tiles under her feet. Fired-clay tiles would be noisy if they ground together, and might wake someone inside the house. She managed to reach the window without a sound. The rogue examined the casement carefully.

Finally, she was convinced there were no traps, and she pulled out another treasure from her kit – a strong magnet which she used to coax the iron hook that served as a crude lock out of its eyelet on the other side of the glass. Succeeding, she rubbed a little de-scented fish-oil around the perimeter of the window. She wiped away the excess, and then slid the window open. Pleased at the lack of sound, she slipped into the room. It was some kind of storage room. She went to the door, oiled its hinges, checked it for locks and traps, and exited, closing the door carefully behind her.

A half hour of careful, catlike prowling yielded the location of the study and Gruben's books. She easily found and disarmed the trap on the door, making a note of how she might re-arm it when she left. She intended to leave no indication that his study had ever been violated.

There was a shelf of books lining one wall, and a large desk with writing implements and a chair. She looked over the desk quickly and was about to turn to the shelf when something caught her eye. It was a dog-eared ledger book. She picked it up and looked at the cover. It said "Fashion Plate". Wasn't that the goblin's name for the draenei? She thumbed it open and browsed through it.

Behind her dark glasses, Merridy's silver eyes widened as she began to comprehend what she saw. Gruben, meticulous goblin businessman that he was, had documented _everything_ involved in the acquisition of the draenei, including a number of personal notes scrawled in the margins. There were receipts pressed between pages, and extensive records of even the smallest bits of copper exchanged over this draenei. In short, there was… a lot of information. Duchene would definitely want to see _this_. However, she'd have to get a copy made, because with the level of obsessiveness evident in this book, there was no way Gruben would _not_ notice it was gone.

She slipped the ledger in her magic bag, and suppressed a sigh. Mul'jin was going to ask an arm and a leg for what she had in mind.

* * *

The rogue rapped on the wooden door once more, harder this time. It seemed it was enough, a light came on in the shack, and the door opened up. The large green troll who answered the door was naked. He rubbed his eyes and glared at her.

"Merridy. What ya want at dis hour." Mul'jin demanded tiredly, apparently uncaring that he was naked as the day he was born.

She pushed her way in the door and shoved it closed. The troll backed up a few steps and crossed his arms at her.

"I got work for you," she said.

"Can't it wait 'till mornin'?" he asked querulously.

"No. I need an exact replica of something, and I need it tonight. I gotta get it back to its rightful owner before he wakes up." She insisted.

The troll quirked an eyebrow at her. "First I eva heard of a t'ief returnin' da goods. What ya want is 'spensive. Prolly more so dan da booty."

"There's more. You gotta keep your mouth shut about all of this. It's got to be an _exact_ replica. It's gotta be tonight, preferably within the hour. And you don't look at its contents, kay?"

Mul'jin stared at her. "Anyt'ing else?" he asked sarcastically.

"That's it." Merridy replied flatly, ignoring the sarcasm.

"Alright girl. It won't be cheap. Hunnerd gold. Up front."

Aw shit. She had only 50 gold on her – and the banks weren't open at three in the morning. She wanted to get this whole business concluded _long_ before they opened their doors. Time to bargain.

"That's ridiculous. Fifty."

"No way. Dat's a lot of work ya talkin' bout. 'Spensive reagents. An' ya want it in an hour. It's a hunnerd, or not at all."

Merridy sighed. She hadn't wanted to resort to this, but at least the troll was a friend. And she could plainly see he was well equipped, which… (lets be honest) mitigated things. "Alright. I hate to say it, I only got fifty. But—," she forestalled the troll, who was about to protest, and unfastened her shirt. His jaw dropped as her purple orbs breached the tight, charcoal leather. "I think I can make it worth your while." She finished.

He ran a three-fingered hand through his vivid blue Mohawk, and looked away from her for a moment. Then he looked back and met her eyes.

"Okay." He said. "Ya got a deal. Show me dis t'ing ya got. An' da gold. We get to da rest afta, right?"

"Yeah," she said, and fished out the ledger and all her gold. Before she handed them to Mul'jin, she spat in her palm and held it out. The troll shook firmly. She handed the book and the gold to him.

The troll turned the ledger over in his hands, but made no move to open it. "A book?" he sounded a little surprised. "Well, at least da reagents not be so bad. Paper, leat'er, ink, an' a liddle gold for da base materials, an' some dusts an' essences should do it. I got alla dat."

"Does this mean I can have a discount?" she asked.

He looked at her. "No." She made a moue of disappointment. "It's still bloody hard ta do when I can't look at da contents." he continued, "'Sides, I t'ink maybe I might like fuckin' a night-elf." he said casually.

She leaned against the wall of the shack and watched as the troll mage donned his robes and picked up his staff, and then rummaged about in his possessions. He pulled the substances he had named and placed them, and the ledger, in a chalk-lined circle on the floor. He began to chant, and dance.

The mage continued his ritual, the pace picking up slowly, until he was dancing in a frenzy, drops of sweat flying freely from his body as he cavorted in front of the circle. Merridy found herself impressed with his performance. She'd always though the arcane was the purview of the effete, but it was obvious that Mul'jin's style of magic required a certain degree of physical fitness in addition to arcane ability. She understood how he got his fine physique.

Finally, he reached a pace that looked impossible to maintain. All of a sudden, he leapt, whirling, and slammed the butt of his staff down into the circle, dead centre between the ledger and the pile of stuff. There was a flash of blue light, and Merridy shielded her eyes. When she could see again, there were two identical ledgers in the circle. Gasping for breath, Mul'jin leaned down and picked them up. He held them out to her.

"Dis da 'riginal. Dis da copy." he said. She nodded, and opened them both quickly to check. Perfect copies, just as he'd promised. She placed the original in her bag, and pulled out an empty lock box. She placed the copy in the lock box, locked it quickly, and pocketed the key. "What ya doin' now?" the troll asked.

"I've got to return this before I can give you the other half of the payment. I'm not running out on our deal, but I need to get this back to its rightful owner, and I need to be able to walk to do that." He smiled at that, and she continued. "I'm giving you the replica in this magic-proof box – it's your insurance that I'm coming back so you can collect on the rest of our bargain, kay?"

"Okay, Merridy. Ya go do what ya got ta do. I be waitin' for ya when ya get back." He winked at her. She smiled back at him and prepared to go.

Returning the book was uneventful. The dog was still asleep and she took exactly the same route in as she had the first time. The tricky part was locking and re-trapping everything back the way it was behind her. But she got it done.

She made a quick detour to her own home just as false dawn was starting to lighten the eastern sky. The rogue shucked her skulking leathers and tossed on a magenta dress – if the flimsy silk could be called a dress. The halter was backless and wide enough to cover nipples and not much else. It was connected to the skirt with a wide gold-linked belt with fuchsia enamel work. The skirt was ankle-length, but slit on both sides up to her thighs, with cut-outs that showed her shapely hips. A friend had given the dress to her as a joke. Well, now Merridy was going to use it to make Mul'jin's eyes fall out of his head. She ran a quick brush through her short teal hair and applied a small amount of violet lipstick, downed a quick potion for extra stamina and stashed a few extra in her belt pouch, and dashed out of the apartment. Yeah, actually, she was a little eager for this, truth be told.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

The sun was coming up as Merridy slipped through the door of Mul'jin's shack. The troll was sitting naked at his table, dozing. He sat upright with a jolt as she closed the door. A light flickered on, and she blinked.

"Spirits protect me, mon!" Mul'jin exclaimed as he saw her. His red troll eyes rolled over her form. She leaned seductively against the door and gave him a sultry gaze. "I didn't 'spect ya be comin' 'ere lookin' like dat, but I ain't complainin'!" Merridy smiled.

"I took a few minutes to freshen up. I hope you don't mind," she purred.

"Not at all." He couldn't tear his eyes off her as she stalked towards him in a hip-rolling walk she'd learned drove men wild. He rose as she approached, and she could see that she'd already got him worked up. His penis stood like a soldier at attention.

Merridy leaned across the table at him, letting her rump rise and her tits jiggle. She looked up at him with a flirtatious, side-long glance. "So, big boy, you ready to find out what a night-elf can do?" Out of her peripheral vision she caught a sight of his mighty manhood twitch. Oh yeah, he was ready. So was she, actually, she could feel the wet slipperiness between her legs already. She smiled and licked her lips.

Mul'jin's chair clattered to the ground behind him as the troll moved towards her. He caught her in his massive hands, one supporting her back while the other ran through her hair. She felt his searing dick pressed against her stomach as he took her mouth in a frenzied kiss. Somehow he managed to avoid damaging her with his curling tusks.

He pulled away from the kiss after a minute and gave her a challenging gaze. "I'm gonna fuck ya 'till ya walk bowlegged," he growled as she gasped for breath. The troll slipped his hand through the slit in her dress and found her sex. She wasn't wearing any panties.

He grinned and slid a finger inside her. "Looks like ya be ready for me already. Brace yaself, elf!" he roared, and tipped her back onto the table. A pile of scrolls stacked where the table met the wall was disrupted by a close encounter with her long ears and went thumping to the ground with hollow _thoonk_ sounds. He flipped the front flap of her skirt up and pushed his body between her legs. Then with a grunt, his dick found her sex and he was in her, hard and fast. She was glad she was already hot for it, because it seemed Mul'jin's idea of foreplay consisted of diving right in. But oooh, he was so big and hard and felt so damn good in her slick depths.

The weight of his upper body pressed her into the table. The furniture creaked and thumped as the impact of his wild thrusting banged it into the wall. Merridy gasped for breath, moaning. One rough hand pushed aside the thin halter strap on one breast and squeezed her hard. The other pushed her hip up to give him deeper access. Each pounding thrust wrung an ecstatic cry from her.

Tusks brushed against her neck, then an electric combination of pain and pleasure raced through her as he bit her and held her with his teeth. He didn't break skin, but a part of her noted that'd she would probably have a bruise there. She closed her eyes and arched her back, surrendering to the wild troll between her legs. She whimpered as she came. The pressure on her neck grew as he drove deep into her, and then just as she thought he could go no farther, shoved a little deeper. She felt him spurt inside her, filling her up with so much cum that it squished out of her and ran down her ass onto the flap of her skirt.

But Mul'jin was far from done. As she panted, he hoisted her to her feet with one strong motion. She wobbled a little as he walked her over to his bed at the other end of the shack. With a little push, she fell face first onto the bed, with her ass in the air. She was not quite ready to move yet, but she puzzled at the sound of something being squirted, and then something oily was rubbed against her asshole. Then her eyes went wide and she yelped as the troll slowly pushed his still-hard member into her puckered exit.

_Thank Elune he at least used some fish oil!_ she thought through the initial burn of his entrance. Then he began to slowly fuck her ass, and the pain subsided and was replaced with pleasure, especially when he reached one arm around her front and started diddling her clit. She sprawled on the bed in front of him, shrieking. Pretty soon she was coming again, and she heard him grunt before basting her insides with more of his hot cum.

Her troll lover was still for about ten seconds before he pulled out of her and rubbed his still-erect dick against the inside of her thigh. She began to consider that the stamina potion she'd quaffed was just not going to be enough as he drilled her hot pussy yet again.

Hours later, Mul'jin finally passed out. Staggering, Merridy gathered her stuff (and the box with the book in it), planted a kiss on the sleeping troll's bulbous nose, and stumbled out of the shack. It was a testament to her determination that she could move at all. She considered for a moment that it seemed she was indeed bowlegged as she began to drag herself to Duchene's.

* * *

Duchene passed a nervous night with the knowledge that Merridy was supposed to go to Gruben's. Morning came, and she still hadn't returned. Morning gave way to midday, which gave way to afternoon, and he was starting to really worry. The only thing that kept him from freaking out was the fact that the rest of Booty Bay continued its daily business as usual outside the doors of his pleasant, upper-deck flat. A break-in at Gruben's would have been major news, had it been discovered. It would have been the talk of the town.

He sat facing the door, a string of beads clicking quietly in his hands – more a strategy to relieve anxiety than any kind of piety. He tried not to dwell on what might have happened to that elf.

A thump on his door had him jerking out of his slouch and preparing to answer the door. Before he could do more than rise from his chair, the door opened and Merridy staggered in, slamming the door behind her. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance.

She was wearing some kind of boudoir dress that revealed more than it concealed, a dress which looked to be stained with… something he suspected he knew the identity of but didn't want to dwell on overmuch. She was dirty and smudged, and there were several bruises and scrapes on her neck and chest, not to mention other places. One of the bruises on the part of her hip he could see peeking through the 'dress' looked something like a large thumbprint. Her hair was disheveled and matted with sweat and other substances. She smelled strongly of sex.

"Merridy! What the hell happened to you?" he exclaimed.

The rogue gave him a saucy grin and a wink, and handed him a book. He took it wordlessly, without looking at it. Right now there was a wounded woman who required his attention.

"A troll." She said, smirking.

"Light, Merridy! I think you might have gone above and beyond the call of duty on that one." Duchene grated. He extended his hand to the night-elf, who took it gratefully, and led her to a chair, before pausing and saying, "on second thought, maybe you shouldn't sit right now. Lie down on my bed, I'm going to heal you."

Merridy smiled tiredly at him and allowed the undead priest to half-carry, half-lead her through his small apartment to the bed in the other room. She grunted in pain as she lay on the bed. Duchene took a step back and examined her briefly before weaving his hands together and chanting. Golden light formed between his hands, then flared, flowing into her body. The black bruises faded into the normal purple of her skin, the cuts closed, the swelling vanishing and dissipating into unwounded flesh. There were no doubt other changes unseen, inside her. Within a few seconds she was whole again. She heaved a sigh of relief.

"I don't think I would ever do that again without having a priest or healer of some type on hand to help speed recovery, but I had fun all the same." The rogue stated. "You should look at that book. I went through a lot to get it for you." She suggested cheerfully.

Duchene rolled his eyes and opened the book, scanning through a few pages. He stiffened as he realized what he was reading. He flipped a few pages, read, and flipped some more. Then he closed it, having seen enough for now. "You're going to have to get this back to Gruben. If he notices it missing I don't think he'll take it well."

"He won't. It's a perfect replica." She replied.

"A what? That's—," he began, but the elf cut him off.

"I got a mage friend to do it. One of the conditions was he didn't open it. I returned the original before I went to give M-uhh my friend the rest of the payment." He quirked an eyebrow at the rogue's slip.

"I don't suppose you were about to say Mul'jin, were you?"

"Uhhh…" Merridy avoided his gaze.

"Don't worry. Mul'jin's fairly trustworthy. So he demanded your body in payment did he?"

"Not really," she said, blushing, "He asked a hundred. I only had fifty. So I told him fifty and suggested I'd fuck him for the rest of it. He accepted the deal."

Duchene sighed and fished in his robes for his money pouch. He counted out one hundred gold and handed them to Merridy, who accepted them. "You were smart to make a copy, though I'm sorry you had to pay for it that way. If I'd thought of it I would have given you some money just in case something came up, but I didn't think of it. I'm sorry Merridy." He apologized.

"Don't be," she smirked, "I had fun. Besides, I knew you'd heal me right up. By Elune, you wouldn't believe how long a troll can go! From sunrise 'till this afternoon he had me on my back. If I hadn't brought along a potion or two I'd probably have been in a lot worse shape." The night-elf's voice was clearly impressed. "But that's done with. Is the ledger enough for you? It looked like it might be from what I saw. That's why I decided to have it copied."

"Yeah," Duchene said quietly, dangerously "It's enough. It's more than enough to get Kian out of there." He reopened the book.

Just as Merridy had noticed, the goblin was obsessive in the level of detail in the ledger. Duchene smouldered as he flipped through the record book. The first entry was dated the first day she'd come to town. It was more a journal entry than a financial ledger, expressing intent to possess the draenei. As time went on, there were financial records, records of Gruben buying out the draenei's debts from other moneylenders – with interest fees and debt transfer charges tacked on each time, making it higher and higher. He also enticed her to his lending business, using a confusing contract (he'd kept a copy pressed between the pages – Duchene even had a great deal of difficulty deciphering it and he was an old hand at goblin contracts) that allowed him to recall the loan at any time for any reason.

It didn't stop there. There were receipts for the construction and furnishing of the room in his house where Duchene and other clients had visited – Gruben had the audacity to add that to the charges on Kian's balance. Gleeful notes littered the margins of the things he planned to do to the girl before whoring her out. There was a set of letters between him and an engineer, detailing the construction of a special, magic-suppressing collar with built in pain circuits. It was obvious that the goblin had gone to extensive effort to entangle the draenei in a financial trap that would allow him to take her as his indentured servant, and force her into a life of prostitution. This was not merely a matter of a financially naïve girl stumbling through the goblin lending system, this was a deliberate attempt to gain control of Kian.

Duchene fumed. Unfortunately, none of this was illegal (though it was discouraged) under goblin law. All of the things Gruben had done were technically legal. And Kian _had_ signed the contract.

Then he turned a few more pages and discovered Gruben's undoing. He found a set of letters between him and the Bloodsail Buccaneers, sworn enemies of Baron Revilgaz. According to the documents, Gruben had been feeding them some of the proceeds of his one-girl pimping business – campaign support. Duchene possessed in his hands damning evidence of collusion and conspiracy. He carefully removed the letters and placed them in his bag, smiling a down-right evil grin.

"Find what you were looking for?" Merridy cooed.

"Indeed I did. I think I need to make a trip to visit our friend Gruben." Duchene muttered. He looked at the night-elf. "I'll be relocating, I think. Gruben isn't going to take this well, and I don't think Booty Bay will be a good place for me to stay after this. I'll send you mail once I know where I'll be."

"You're going to go through with it then? Best-of-luck Duchene, you're not bad for a dead guy." Merridy said, getting up to go. "She must be really something, if you'll leave your home over her."

The undead shrugged. "No place has ever really been a home for me since the plague. One place is as good as any. I was getting a little tired of fish anyway." He started to pack the contents of the small apartment into his collection of high-capacity magic bags. Merridy gave the distracted priest a quick kiss on the cheek, and left his apartment. He had work to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

It took a while to prepare. Duchene had to settle his accounts in Booty Bay first, and that meant terminating his agreement with his landlord, buying a mount, acquiring travel supplies, and making a few other arrangements. All of this took time and money. Fortunately, he had plenty of the latter – he'd long ago learned how to use the auction house to turn a profit. And he'd saved the excess, because though he couldn't recall having taken a vow of poverty, he'd never had the urge to live extravagantly. His clothes and the occasional whore were all he really spent money on.

The sun sets early in the tropics, and it was full dark by the time he made his way up the path to Gruben's place. He entered the compound and ignored the barking of the two-headed mutt chained to a post in the yard and strode up to the verandah. He paused to check his stuff to make sure that the ledger was where he needed it to be and the letters to the Bloodsail Buccaneers were safely stashed in another bag, and then he knocked on the door.

Gruben himself answered, smiling broadly up at Duchene. "Back for more are you, priest? Well as it happens she's not with a customer right now. I can let you in for a half hour for fifty. What do you say?" the goblin ushered Duchene in the door and into the foyer.

"Actually, I would like to discuss some business with you." The undead said.

"Business?" Gruben smiled avidly, "What kind of business?"

"I wish to purchase the draenei."

Gruben lost his smile. "That's out of the question. She's still working off her debts."

"I can pay the remainder." Duchene said mildly.

"If I allowed you to do that, how would she ever learn the error of her ways?" Gruben sneered. Duchene sighed. It was clear that the goblin was going to force him to do things the hard way.

"I suggest you reconsider that, Gruben. She owed you ten thousand, and that amount was dubious at best. She's made you double that already, even considering the money you spent on her." He would much rather he didn't have to resort to blackmail, but he would if Gruben wouldn't budge on this.

"How do you know all that?" the goblin snapped, beady eyes glittering dangerously.

The undead reached into his robe and withdrew just enough of the ledger for the goblin to recognize what he held. Gruben snarled in recognition and lunged at Duchene. The priest had been expecting this, and a single gesture with his free hand brought a glowing shield humming around him. The goblin bounced off it without any harm.

"I believe this proves that she's more than paid off her debts by now." The undead said urbanely. "And I believe Baron Revilgaz might be interested in certain other business transactions you've conducted with funds gleaned from her."

"How did you get that?!" the goblin demanded.

"That's not important. What's important is the fact that this ledger contains a great deal of information, some of it very very damning. However, I am willing to make a deal. Revilgaz need never know about your 'campaign contributions' to his enemies. Just sign the draenei over to me and I'll destroy the book." Duchene suggested. He kept his voice very reasonable, very polite. He hid his delight at seeing the goblin squirm.

Gruben ground his teeth audibly, then relented. "Fine. I'll give you the draenei. But I want to see you destroy that book."

"Consider it done. But I want that bill showing she's mine. And the controls for the collar she wears."

"Alright, alright. Follow me." Gruben gestured to the undead and led him into the goblin's study. The pint-sized humanoid stopped dead in his tracks on seeing the original ledger still in its place. "Wait a second… That's a fake!"

"Actually, it's a perfect replica." The priest opened the copy to a random page, and held it out close enough for the goblin to see yet too far away for it to be grabbed easily. Gruben squinted as he scanned the page. Then he grunted.

"Alright, alright! I _still_ don't know how you got that," the little green man snarled. He flung himself in his chair and pulled a fresh sheet of paper from a drawer in the desk. His feather pen scratched as he wrote out the bill of transference, and he spoke as he wrote.

"I, Gruben Cranklesproket, money lender, of the goblins, do hereby declare that the payment of the remainder of the debt owed by the draenei known as Kian, or Fashion Plate, shall be transferred to one Duchene, priest, of the forsaken. Said draenei shall henceforth make all payments on this debt to the person of Duchene. As the draenei is indentured as reparation for her unpaid debts, control of her indenture shall likewise pass to Duchene. This document shall serve as official notice of transfer. Signed, Gruben Cranklesproket." The goblin dated the document and sanded the parchment. Once it had dried, he tapped the sand off and placed it on the edge of his desk. "Let's see your part of the bargain."

"The collar controls," Duchene reminded him. Gruben scowled, fished in his pocket, and pulled out a small device. He placed it on the bill of transference.

The priest shielded himself, held the ledger out and focused his power, calling holy fire to the book. The leather-bound volume flared with brilliant red-gold flame, burning hot and intense. Within seconds, all that was left was pale white ash which sifted away from the undead's hands. Before the goblin recovered from the dramatic sight, Duchene took the bill and the collar controls.

"I wish to take my property," the undead said.

* * *

Kian was sitting on her bed in a plain linen dress, concentrating intently on the needle and thread in her hands. When her door slammed open, she sat up with a shock and accidentally pricked her finger. "Yipe!" she squeaked, and stuck the bleeding digit in her mouth, staring at the door. There was Duchene, and Gruben. The goblin looked angry and she tried to keep from flinching. But what was the priest doing here? It hadn't been seven days yet. And she wasn't even in the business room.

"Get up, Fashion Plate. You're done here. Get the hell out of my house." Gruben snarled at her.

"M-master, what?" What the hell was going on here?

"You heard me! Get out of here. This _thing_," the goblin made a violent gesture towards the Duchene, "is your master now."

Too confused and afraid to fully comprehend what was going on, she stood up, uncertain of what to do. Six months of abuse and enforced powerlessness had made far more timid and passive than she would ever care to admit. It was a shameful state for a dragon.

The goblin grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the room. "Alright Duchene, you have your draenei. Get off my property and get out of my sight."

Duchene took her hand and led her from the room and through the halls of the goblin's fancy home, and out into the cool night air. She kept pace with him, not daring to ask what was going on, for she had seen in his hand a curl of paper, and the dreaded controls for the collar she wore. She was afraid, and she felt betrayed. How could Duchene, who had been so kind to her, hold the keys to her continued enslavement?

"Come on Kian. We're going to have to get out of Booty Bay. I suspect that Gruben won't let us go that easily." Duchene said to her as they walked the path from the goblin's house to the harbor town. She said nothing, just kept up with him.

She was silent for the whole walk through the town, hardly daring to gaze around. They made their way past the tavern, past the shacks on the decks over the water, up the stairs and into the mouth of the cave. Once on the other side of the cave, they walked a little ways along the road and then Duchene stopped. He pushed the paper and the collar's controls into one of his bags, and rummaged around, pulling out something that looked like reins. Satisfied, he flicked them in the air with a snap.

Suddenly, a skeletal charger appeared in a puff of smoke, giving a ghostly neigh. She heard her master mutter something about that being a handy trick, then he mounted up. He turned to her, and stretched out a hand.

"Ride behind me. We have a long ways to go and we'll have to ride through most of the night. I'm sorry, but I want to be as far from here as I can before sunrise. If we move now, we might be able to make it halfway to the old arena." he said. "Grom'gol is four days away, even on this mount."

She was still confused, still hurt, but she took his hand and mounted behind him. It never occurred to her to disobey.

"Have you ever ridden before?" Duchene asked, apparently noticing that she sat behind him like a sack of grain.

"No."

"I'm sorry your first experience is on one of these, then. They're bumpy, but they're fast. They don't need to eat or sleep, and they can keep a pace forever that would kill a living horse. Put your arms around me and hang on tight." She complied, clinging to the priest.

He flicked the reins and the skeletal horse suddenly surged forward. The sudden movement had her tightening her grip on Duchene. In the darkness she could see the forest streaking by. While the undead horse was not as fast as she was when she flew, it was still much faster than she'd ever travelled by land. She didn't want to think of what the consequences would be if she hit the road at that speed.

They rode through the night, never slackening the pace. At first, it wasn't so bad, but as the night dragged on, Kian desperately struggled to keep herself awake. She'd already had a full day of housekeeping before Duchene had arrived. Thankfully, no clients had yet come when he had, or she would no doubt be even more exhausted than she already was.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning before sunrise, mists crept in and shrouded the jungle around them. Duchene slowed his horse and made his way through the fog carefully, as the twisting road was difficult to see. The fog was rapidly thickening, and he led the horse off the road, finding a small, sheltered opening in the jungle. He stopped the horse, and dismounted, then moved quickly to prevent her from falling off the horse after him.

"Light, Kian, I'm sorry. You look nearly dead on your feet. We can't really go any farther, why don't you get some sleep?" he said. He sounded concerned, caring. Maybe things weren't so bad after all. Kian looked at him tiredly and gave a little nod. When he produced a bedroll from his travel bags and laid it out on the grass, she gratefully curled up in it and fell instantly asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

Some time later, Kian opened her eyes to find dappled sunlight streaming through the jungle onto her face. Rubbing her eyes, she tried to figure out where she was and how she got there. Then she remembered the events of the night before – leaving Gruben's place with Duchene, and the long ride through the jungle. She sat up. The priest was sitting nearby, golden eyes unblinkingly focused on what looked like a string of beads. They clicked quietly between his long fingers.

The clicking stopped, and the priest turned his head to regard her. He must have heard her stir.

"Did you get enough sleep?" he asked, rising to sit beside her.

"I did, master." she said. Duchene stiffened at her use of the appellation. She froze, cognizant once more that he held the controls to the device around her neck.

"Kian, don't call me that. Call me Duchene." he said. He sounded pained.

"But G-Gruben… He said…"

Duchene sighed. "I bought out your indenture, in a manner of speaking, yes."

"That means you own me." Kian insisted.

"Only if you still owed money."

Her eyes widened. "What was that?"

"Do you have any idea how much Gruben was charging for you?" the priest asked. Kian shook her head. "I got hold of his ledger – no, you don't need to know how," he smiled, "Gruben hasn't exactly been playing a legitimate game here. You paid off your debt to him sometime during your second month. Somehow, that fact seems to have slipped his mind." Kian felt fury burn like a column of fire in her core at those words.

"You mean to say I've spent the last four months on my back when I was supposed to be _free_?" she hissed.

Duchene nodded. "What's more, he deliberately entrapped you in order to force you to prostitute for him. I don't think he would have ever freed you. I had to blackmail him to get you out of there."

Kian couldn't move, she was so furious. "We need to go back. I need to kill him." she said.

He sighed again. "I don't think that's a good idea, Kian." When she glared at him, he continued. "According to goblin law, nothing he did involving your indenture was illegal. Even the fact that you'd worked off your initial debt long ago isn't really something you could use – he could always claim the excess was part of your upkeep. There are provisions in the contract you signed for that." She shifted angrily. He went on. "You kill him, and you'll get blacklisted by the Steamwheedle Cartel. It's not wise to have the enmity of any of the trade princes. Leave it be, Kian. You're free now. If he comes after you again, then that's a different story. Then I'll help you take him down. But for now," he shook his head, "live and let live."

"Easy for you to say," she snapped, "You didn't have half of Azeroth stuffing cocks in all your orifices. You didn't have crazy rogues slicing you up for fun, or ogres splitting you apart and laughing because they think it's funny when they can make you bleed while they fuck you. You didn't have to clean toilets, scrub floors, cook smelly goblin food, you didn't have to endure pain and humiliation for his pleasure. You didn't get zapped by that _collar_ on his whims. I did." She sniffled suddenly, trying to stifle the tears of anger and humiliation. Gods, dragons don't cry! What the hell was wrong with her? "_I did!_" she screamed. Then she choked back a sob.

Silk-clad arms wrapped around her. "Kian, I'm so sorry," she heard him say. Those soft words were all it took to open the floodgates. She hugged her knees to her body and bawled, unheeding of the fingers stroking her hair and the soft touch of the man sitting beside her.

"I'm sorry," he said again, softly. "When I first came to you I didn't realize you were indentured. I… feel complicit in the abuse you suffered. If I could change the past I would, please know that." He said urgently, trying to pull her out of her tight curl. She looked up at him, and was surprised to see genuine pain on his face. She realized he really did blame himself in part for what she went through.

With a sniffle, she accepted his embrace. Strong, bony hands held her tight against his chest. She wrapped her tail around his bottom and leaned into him. "I like you Duchene. You cared about what I felt. You're the only one… the _only_ one," she repeated forcefully, "who ever gave a shit whether I lived or died. The rest just used me."

"I know," he said, "That's why I had to get you out of there when I found out the truth. I'm not proud of myself. I'm hardly a paragon of piety – I will admit that I've visited many, uh, whores—," he paused, apparently thinking of something to say. She interrupted.

"You don't need to mince words, it's what I was, whether it's what I wanted to be or not." she said. He continued, rubbing her arms and shoulders in a comforting way.

"Well, yeah. Not many women will willingly be with one of the forsaken, let alone a forsaken with a problem. My little problem with shadows has terrified more women than I want to think about. Whores were the only ones who would take me." She heard him sigh. "I've fallen pretty far as a priest; so far it's a continual surprise that the Light still comes to my call. I was so ecstatic when I found you. I blackmailed Gruben to get you free, something that I really don't like thinking about, but I could stand that more than I could stand the thought of you being subjected to more and more abuse by that depraved freak of a goblin. I hate slavery. It's a vile institution. I will not willingly be a party to any variety of it."

She wiped the last of her tears away and leaned into him. "Duchene, thank you for freeing me. Thank you for caring. It means a lot to me. If you hadn't come along, he'd probably have kept me there forever." The last word came out breathlessly, as Kian realized this might have truly been the case. All along, the thought that she would eventually pay her debts or escape had kept her going. She shivered as she considered the alternative.

"Kian, I couldn't do anything else."

She turned in his arms to face him and slid her own arms around him. Then she pressed her lips to his and kissed him.

The kiss seemed to catch him by surprise. He didn't react until Kian slipped her tongue past his lips, and then he seemed to come to his senses. His tongue met hers and he returned the kiss ardently. Kian was a little surprised to discover the electric longing that coursed through her at his touch.

Could a netherdrake love a mortal? She thought her brothers and sisters on the crystalline ledge of her whelphood would scoff at the notion. She wasn't so sure, though she wasn't sure she really knew what love was. But she felt a sense of loyalty and attachment to Duchene, and undeniably, inexplicably, she felt desire.

They continued to kiss, and Kian shifted her body so that she was not twisting her torso but facing him. She pulled herself in his lap and pressed her chest against his, holding him tight.

"Mmmpff!" he said in her mouth. She let his lips go. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she smirked, and kissed him again. She wrapped her knees around him and squeezed, grinding her crotch against his. Even through the layers of linen and silk she could feel him responding.

He tore free from her kiss once more. "You don't have to do this. You're free now." He said.

"I know. I _don't_ have to do this. I _choose_ to." She smiled as his eyes widened at her words. She was free now. That meant she could do what she wanted. And right now, what she wanted was Duchene. She gave the astonished priest a feral grin as she parted the front of his robes, reaching inside to caress his naked skin. She leaned in and nibbled on his ear. "Don't tell me you don't want this. I can feel you through your pants." she whispered teasingly. She heard him inhale raggedly at her words. His hands slid under her dress to where she was _still_ not wearing underwear and caressed her. One hand squeezed her right breast while the other slid to her moist cleft.

She levered herself up with her knees almost instinctively, allowing him better access to her hot sex. He took advantage of the motion by pulling her dress up with one swift, smooth motion of his breast hand. She allowed him to pull it over her head and toss it aside. He put the free hand around her back and pulled her chest towards his face. His mouth fastened on her breast.

"Ahhhmmm" she moaned, closing her eyes and enjoying the darts of pleasure that seemed to streak directly from her nipples straight to her sex with every stroke of his tongue. Mortals were on to something wonderful with this breast thing!

Kian managed to slip his robe off his shoulders and endured the absence of his delightful skilled hands long enough to remove them from his sleeves. His skin was soft and cool beneath her fingers, and she caressed his back as he leaned towards her to attend to her chest.

His trousers were confounding her as she attempted to get her hands down to where his manhood was tenting the black silk while still keeping his mouth and hands where they were on her body. Duchene's fingers left their work on her clit and swiftly undid the fastenings. She helped him pull his trousers down, freeing his dick to point straight up at her. With a low sound of longing, she lowered herself, impaling herself on him. She heard him gasp as her hot, wet pussy engulfed his manhood. He twitched inside her. She ground against him, disregarding the bony hardness of his protruding hips as she did so. It felt so good to have him inside her, filling her up.

She moaned his name and clung to him as he kissed her neck. Every nerve in her body felt lit up with pure pleasure. Eagerly, she caressed him back, rocking her body with his and closing her eyes in pure sensual delight. He was touching her all over, feeling as though he had five hands instead of the usual two. She could feel how wet she was, could smell the musky scent of their arousal. They squished together wetly as she ground herself against him.

His lips and tongue went back to worshipping her breasts and she cried out with every stroke, feeling her insides tighten around him as each lance of pleasure struck her. She bounced in his lap, tail slapping against his legs as she brought her hips down to meet his. He suckled harder, hands on her buttocks, squeezing her ass, guiding her thrusts.

She met his gaze, and it was all the more erotic to see his golden eyes half-lidded in pleasure as they fucked in the bright, warm glade. She could see the lust burning there, a purple-black-green shadow flickering in the golden depths like the centre of a candle flame. He lifted his mouth from her breast and she kissed him hard, hands cupping his face. He sucked on her lower lip and electric jolts of pleasure shot through her. Duchene grunted, pushing her onto him harder as he tried to thrust into her tightening depths. The shadows began to gather around them. She clung to him, fingernails digging into his back.

"Oh gods, Kian, you're going to make me—uhnn!" Darkness enfolded them both with amazing suddenness, and she howled as the delicious touch of the shadow caressed her while her lover filled her hot cunt with thick ropes of his cum.

"Oh yes!" she cried as she came, arching her body backwards and driving her hips against his. His power rippled through her, feeling electric and sensitizing her skin even further. Every point where their bodies touched tingled.

The dappled light slowly flooded back into the clearing. They took a few moments to recover, even he was breathing hard. Her eyes met his and she smiled – he still seemed slightly dumbstruck by the fact that she had chosen this, even though free. Then Duchene smiled back. "Kian, you are lovely. Thank you for this."

"I, uh…" Kian blushed. "I like doing this with you." They disengaged and got to their feet.

"We should get going. I want to get to Grom'gol as fast as we can." Duchene said.

"Why Grom'gol?" she asked as they cleaned up.

"I need to get as far away from Gruben as I can – I don't think he's going to forgive and forget where I'm involved. And I suspect this is even more so for you. The zeppelin is the fastest way to travel across continents. We can go to Orgrimmar, or Undercity, hell, we could go to Northrend if we wanted to. As long as I have those papers showing you're indebted to me, no one is going to give us trouble in Horde territory."

She considered this. It made sense, as long as she was stuck as a draenei… she stopped what she was doing and looked at Duchene. "I don't suppose you could remove the collar at least?" she asked.

"Ah, sorry, I kind of forgot—of course I will." He said quickly, looking chagrined as he produced the remote. He studied it for a moment, then pressed some buttons. The collar fell away from her neck with a soft click. She had just enough time to blink before her magic came back.

When a limb is cut off from circulation for a period of time, only to have that circulation suddenly returned, there is pain. Unlike a limb, six months was not enough to 'kill' magic, but it was more than enough to hurt like a sonofabitch. When it came rushing back into her, Kian started screaming as pathways through her mind, soul and body that had been empty for six months were suddenly filled with the torrent of magic inherent to all dragons.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

Duchene had cursed his forgetfulness about the collar when Kian reminded him of it. But what happened next startled him. When the collar fell off, she started screaming like a banshee. There was so much power swirling around her that he could _see_ it, the glowing blue haze of arcane energy infusing her body, flowing into her open mouth, blazing from eyes that were far more blue than silver now.

Realization struck him at the sight. He cursed his own stupidity – of course the sudden return of her power was not going to be pleasant after six months of being shut away from it. He knew from Gruben's notes in the ledger that she was a mage, but he hadn't realized she was one of quite this significant power.

She still screamed. They were in Stranglethorn Vale, far from friendly territory, and she was no doubt letting every inimical creature within earshot know she was in distress. He suddenly realized that he had to stop her from screaming. A simple gesture called healing to her which pulsed golden around her body with every heartbeat, but she still screamed, pausing only to take huge gulps of breath. That's didn't work. Almost panicking, he tried a more powerful spell, one that would allow him to control her mind and body. The spell failed, almost as if she wasn't a humanoid. Finally, he realized there was another way to go about this.

"I'm sorry Kian," he muttered, not that she could hear him, and gestured. Silence encased her, cutting off the sound immediately and dramatically. It was surreal watching her scream like that, yet hearing no sound. Then she sat down suddenly, rolled her eyes wildly, and fainted. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He checked her over, but realized there wasn't much he could do. She wasn't wounded, so he couldn't heal her. All he could really do was wait until she woke up, and hope that she hadn't given their position away to something he couldn't handle. He tucked her into the bedroll and settled down beside her to wait. However long she was out for, he could wait. The forsaken didn't really need to sleep, though he enjoyed it. He could wait.

Hours passed, and he wondered if he should try to move them. But she was taller and heavier than he was. He was, like most undead, more wiry than bulky, while she was soft and voluptuous after six months of enforced idleness. He was not weak, but he didn't think he had the strength to keep an unconscious draenei on a mount while they rode.

He wasn't sure what alerted him to the fact that he was being watched. Suddenly he was simply aware of a watcher. His head whirled and he made out a figure in the vegetation beyond the clearing. He could clearly make out the white, rust and black of a Bloodsail uniform. Rising, he gestured at the watcher, who backed away from the clearing with a rustle of bushes.

"PAIN!" the word hissed from Duchene's lips, filled with shadowy potency. He heard an anguished cry and the sound of his watcher stumbling. Then another anguished cry, a thump, and silence.

He waited fifteen minutes, alert for more movement and sound. There was none. Had there been another watcher? He did not know. When he judged it was safe, he went to investigate. He found the corpse of a human, in bloodsail dress, not far from the clearing. It was the one who had watched him. Shrugging, he dragged the body back to the clearing and hoped Kian would stay asleep just a _little_ bit longer. No sense wasting a perfectly good corpse.

* * *

It wasn't until early the next morning that Kian finally stirred. Duchene was glad that he'd already done away of the evidence of his recent meal – most non-undead found undead dietary habits disturbing. There had been no more watchers that he had detected.

The draenei sat up with a groan and put her hand against her head, wincing. "What the hell happened?" she asked weakly.

"I'm afraid neither of us really realized what would happen when we took that collar off. You were screaming and then you lost consciousness."

"How long ago was that?"

"Yesterday."

"I'm sorry Duchene. I didn't mean to slow us down." she apologized.

"Kian, neither of us could know what would happen. We'll deal with it. We should be going now, though. There was a watcher yesterday. I took care of him before he could escape to tell anyone about our whereabouts, but I think Gruben is not going to let us go easily." She nodded at his words and rose. They packed up the bedroll quickly, and Kian found her dress hanging from the branch of a tree. She started to put it on.

The first warning that something was not right was when he heard a strange _thunk_ and felt a pain in his back. He glanced down and was mildly surprised to see the tip of a throwing knife protruding from his chest. He suddenly felt slow and clumsy. He managed to stutter the word that started a healing spell on himself when there was another thunk and a second knife joined the first. His thoughts were cloudy and obscure. He couldn't focus his thoughts and he could barely move. What was going on?

He looked around him in confusion to see buccaneers emerging from the trees around them. Kian tossed aside the dress and snarled, eyes flashing nether blue as rage suffused her face. She made a violent gesture and a ring of frost exploded outward from her, somehow bypassing him and freezing their attackers to the ground. He could feel power radiating from her. He stared uncomprehendingly as she threw her head back and roared, her form changing, her outline becoming indistinct and cloudy as magic suffused her. A shape formed in the smoky blue maelstrom of magic, a large, winged shape. He was still struggling to make sense of it all when he succumbed to the poison, and fell face down in the dirt.

* * *

Kian didn't see their attackers until after she saw the knife protruding from Duchene's chest. It only took a moment for her to comprehend what was happening as she began to make out the forms of the pirates surrounding them. As the second knife hit her companion, she drew on her returned magic and unleashed a frost nova.

They were surrounded – after six months with no practice she was uncertain how much of a fight she could put up. They had to get out of here or they were dead. It seemed obvious to Kian that their assailants had been instructed to take out Duchene first. Rage surged through her, heating her blood. She roared, calling her magic to her, and saw the world shrink as she resumed her true form.

Even after an extended period of time as a draenei, Kian had no trouble adjusting to her true body. Before the pirates could react, she lashed her tail, sending one pirate who was attempting to flank her tumbling backwards. She lunged, positioning her body over Duchene's sprawled form, clawing viciously at someone who was unwisely attempting to close in order to finish the job. She swung her head and caught sight of a crossbow in the hands of another, and desperately merged with the nether. The bolt passed through her suddenly indistinct form, painful but not crippling. She became solid again and exhaled the blast of fire that was the netherdrakes' black flight heritage at the archer. Vegetation crackled as it ignited.

Despite her efforts, the pirates were closing in. She was going to lose this if she didn't do something fast. She reached for power, her rage and desperation grabbing more than she should have been able to for decades yet. There was a silent explosion of force in the clearing, and the pirates were momentarily stunned, cowering in terror.

Sparing no time to let them recover, Kian grabbed Duchene and threw herself upwards, attempting to escape the clearing. A final crossbow bolt whizzed past her as she cleared the treetops and took off into the clear blue sky. She flew, unsteady at first, desperately beating her wings for speed and altitude, struggling against the unexpected dead weight of the priest. Finally, she gained enough height, and settled into a laboured pattern as she tacked northeastward towards the coastal mountains. A trip that would have taken days by foot due to the thick jungle and difficult topography took only a fraction of the time by air.

Kian had always been small in comparison to other drakes her age. It had factored into her desire to avoid becoming some mortal's mount. Her smaller wings had to labour harder to achieve the same lift, and the additional weight and drag of the decidedly un-aerodynamic priest dangling limply between her forepaws was rapidly fatiguing her. Six months of not flying had left her wing muscles unused to the strain. Once she crested the low mountains, she began to scout the land below her for a suitable landing place. She wanted something relatively inaccessible to ground-pounders, yet sheltered enough for her and Duchene.

Half an hour of cautious gliding north along the chain finally revealed a likely spot. A sheer cliff rose into a wide-lipped overhang with more than enough room for her to land and take off. She stooped, landing gingerly, and once sure of the stability of the ledge, carefully laid Duchene on the ground, face first to avoid driving the knives deeper in him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

Kian spared a moment's self pity for her tired, strained wings, and shifted into draenei form. After so long in the form, it felt almost as natural as her true form. It was certainly easier for some things, such as seeing if Duchene was alive. She tipped him onto his side, struggling to move his unwieldy body. His eyes were closed, and she could feel no breath or pulse, but that didn't mean anything with an undead. Prying one of the lids open revealed that there was still a faint golden glow behind them.

The knives were still embedded in his back, both on the right side, missing his heart and only damaging one lung. She studied them closely, unsure of whether removing them would cause more harm than good. When she placed him on his front, the tips had been forced back. Black blood had dried onto the blades where they had met flesh, and new blood, also black, was dripping from the re-opened wounds. She thought that was a good thing, but she wasn't sure.

In addition to the blood, she could see a greenish, sticky looking substance coating the section of the blades that had not penetrated him. Poison. That would explain why he'd gone down so quickly – she'd seen undead in battle previously and knew it took a lot more than two knives in the back to bring one down. She decided that maybe she should remove them after all.

Removing the blades without causing further damage was a little tricky, but she took it slow and managed it. The wounds were definitely bleeding when she removed the knives, though not copiously, thankfully. The evidence seemed to point to his continued unlife. Fortunately, his blood seemed to flow a lot slower and thicker than the blood of non-undead mortal creatures. She didn't think he was in danger of bleeding out from these wounds. However, Kian still thought she should bandage him.

She had no cloth other than what he was wearing, so she removed his robes. In doing so, she discovered several magic bags lining his robe. Feeling a little guilty at rummaging through his stuff, she decided to check their contents. Fortunately the first bag contained first-aid supplies – she found a roll of bandages and some flasks of red liquid she was pretty sure were healing potions. Kian struggled to bind the wounds of the unconscious priest, finally succeeding. She managed to get him into a sitting position and uncorked a potion. Getting it into him without obstructing his (potential) breathing was a painstaking process. Finally the flask was empty, and she carefully arranged him so that he was in a position that didn't put a lot of pressure on his wounds. She got to her feet and swayed unsteadily.

Kian realized she was hungrier than she'd been in a long time. She hadn't eaten for nearly two full days – there hadn't been the opportunity to consume much more than water in the two days since they left Booty Bay. Her use of magic had further depleted her energy stores. She suspected that she would have to hunt. She shifted back into her natural form, stretched her still-aching wings, and meticulously memorized nearby topography. Then with a sigh, she dropped from the overhang, too tired and hungry to properly take off. Her elders would call her lazy for that, but she didn't care right now.

* * *

Duchene woke slowly, feeling miserable. He discovered he was lying on his side, and sat up stiffly, wondering what the hell had happened and where he was. His chest ached, his thoughts felt thick, and every slow breath hurt. He raised a hand to his chest and discovered the bandages. He must have been wounded, but he couldn't remember how. Oh well, easy enough to fix the injuries. A quick gesture brought the Light to his wounds. He felt his breathing (little enough as it was) become less painful, and a sense of well-being returned to him. He pushed himself to his feet.

Needless to say, he was a little nonplussed at finding himself alone on a wide mountain ledge, with no apparent way down. Kian was nowhere in sight, but he found his robe and bags, and the two poisoned knives. He picked them up and examined them, touching the tip of his tongue carefully to each in turn. Crippling and mind-numbing – their potency was gone by now, but whoever had thrown them had known the best way to prevent him from acting short of having another magic-user shut him up. He spat and let the knives drop.

A sound like leather flapping in the wind from behind him caught his attention, and he turned. Then he had to crush the urge to flee (where would he go?) as primal instincts in the back of his head screamed "_Dragon! Run!_" at him. Backwinging onto the ledge was a netherdrake, muzzle spattered with dry blood, with what looked like some animal's leg grasped in its front claws. He took a few uncertain steps backwards and looked up at its glowing blue eyes. Something about its eyes reminded him of….

"Kian?" he asked, incredulously.

"Hi!" said the netherdrake cheerfully. It sounded kind of like Kian, but more hollow and echoey sounding. "I brought breakfast." It waved the leg, then placed it on the ground. "You look better than you did before. I'm glad. I was a little worried that you might be dead. Err… deader?"

"What the fuck?" said Duchene. Then he blinked as the dragon suddenly shrank, wings seeming to pull into its back, neck and tail shortening, posture straightening and becoming more bipedal, the pale blue of its paws advancing as the glossy blue-black of its body diminished to a patch of hair on its head and crotch, and it became… Kian. She smiled at him.

"Well, uh… I probably should have said something before, but I'm a dragon. My name is actually Kianraku, but I never really use the 'raku' part. It's usually safer if mortals don't suspect what I am. I kind of don't like having weapons swung at me." she said conversationally.

"Uhhh," he said, oh so intelligently. "You mean to say I've been fucking a dragon?" Hey. It was the first thing that came to his mind.

"At least I'm still a member of an intelligent species." she said defensively.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just wasn't… expecting this?" He couldn't keep the confused note from his voice. "Can you only turn into a draenei?" Ok. So he was curious. Was that a bad thing?

"Of course not." She smiled.

"Do you mind… uh… showing me?"

"What do you have in mind?" she arched an eyebrow at him.

"How about… human?" her outlines blurred and she became a black-haired, blue eyed human woman. "Troll? Night elf? Gnome?" with each named race, she took on that form without hesitation. He noted that she kept as close as she could to her natural colouring, but this wasn't always possible. "Giant?" gnomish brows furrowed in concentration, then she shook her head at that one. "Bunny rabbit?" Kian shrank, becoming a furry little rabbit. Aw, she was so cute! "Red flight?" A little bunny head shake after a pause. "Tree?" Funny, he hadn't known bunnies could glare. "Blood elf? Undead?" the woman before him morphed from stately elf to well-preserved undead. "Male?" Again, her eyebrows bunched. More slowly than her other changes, she became a he.

"Alright, this feels seriously weird." Man-Kian said. He (she?) looked down at himself, and proceeded to explore his own body with his hands. "Seriously. Weird. Not bad, but…very odd. I never thought of trying to be a man before."

Duchene nodded, feeling more than a little weird. "Can you look like a specific person?" he asked. Wow, this was bizarre.

Her(?) features changed slowly, hair shortening, face changing shape subtly, skinless patches rearranging to expose the tendons and bones over knees and elbows. Duchene looked at what could be his own reflection. Absurdly, a mental image of him fucking himself flashed across his mind. He hastily suppressed it. "Light! Take another form! Anything!" he blurted, feeling a little disturbed. The other him became unrecognizable as she resumed her draconic body. He breathed a little sigh of relief. Best not to dwell on that.

"No more please. That's tiring. Especially the last two." Drake-Kian said. He nodded. He'd seen enough for now.

"What are you doing in Azeroth? I thought netherdrakes lived in the Outlands?"

If a netherdrake could look bashful, Kian was doing it now. "I wanted to learn more about mortals."

"I guess that would be the way to do it. I almost hesitate to ask what you learned."

"Mortals will fuck anything. I wasn't expecting that." Her voice was dry. He sniggered.

"Yeah. I guess we will at that. Well, now what?"

"I'd… kind of like to stay with you. Well, if you'll let me." Her eyes met his. "If you want, I could even fly you around."

He considered this. Dragon or not, that was still Kian. And to tell the truth the notion of a shapeshifter struck him as rather intriguing. (He desperately attempted to push the mental image that returned suddenly out of his mind.) And well… he'd always envied those people who had won the loyalty of netherdrakes. He'd left the Outland without learning how to fly on anything faster than a plodding wind rider, and hadn't bothered to go back to learn when he became wealthier.

"You know, it might be nice to have a traveling companion." He said, and was nearly knocked off his feet as she rubbed her large horned head against his chest affectionately. This was going to take some getting used to, but he had no doubts that it could be pleasant.


End file.
